


Spike's Masterpiece

by dustandroses



Series: Never as Safe [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Character Death Implied, Community: tamingthemuse, Dark fic, Ficlet, M/M, POV: Xander, Temporary Character Death, Vampire!Xander - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He belonged to Spike.  That should be a disturbing thought, but it wasn't.  It felt right.  More right than anything had ever felt before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spike's Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Ozsaur, my hero and shit.
> 
> Inspiration for this story taken from the LJ Community TamingtheMuse prompt #283: Masterpiece.
> 
> Sequel to Never As Safe As You Think You Are - a ficlet written for the prompt tree that opened last year's Fall_for_SX on Live Journal. However it is not necessary to have read that ficlet to read this story.

He awoke with a gasp, coming to consciousness in a flash instead of the usual slow drift upwards from sleep that he was used to. He was in a bed, but not his own, and the walls around him were stone. That first gasp brought a multitude of smells with it – dust, candle wax, leather, cigarettes, whiskey, but above it all was a strong scent that made him feel safe and cared for, warm and protected. And horny. Yes, very horny.

Spike. That was Spike. He turned his head and breathed in the scent, filling his nose, filling his lungs with Spike. He wondered why the thought of Spike brought all these wonderful ideas to his mind – and his body. He rubbed his cock idly through the sheet before stretching his muscles languidly.

He felt so good. Perfect, in fact - except for the fact that Spike wasn’t here. Because he knew that Spike should be here with him. Spike belonged here with him, just as he belonged with Spike. He took another deep breath, the scent of Spike almost overwhelming him. He did. He belonged to Spike. That should be a disturbing thought, but it wasn’t. It felt right. More right than anything had ever felt before.

There was one small thing nagging at him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Something about the fact that he was naked in Spike’s bed, because that shouldn’t feel right, but it did, so he wasn’t going to worry about it. He’d concentrate on something else, then. Where was Spike? And why couldn’t he remember how he got here? He remembered getting home last night, taking a shower, popping open a beer and stretching out in front of the TV before deciding he wanted a meatball sub from the little take-out joint at the end of the street.

Since Papa Leone’s didn’t deliver, he’d put on a pair of sweats for the trip, and headed out, thinking that as early as it was, he’d get there before the usual Friday night crowds. That was the last thing he remembered. Damn. Why couldn’t he remember? Well, no sense lying here doing nothing, even though he was tempted to. It felt wonderful lazing around in Spike's bed, surrounded by his smell. But he felt too good to just lie there; he'd get up, and see if he could find Spike.

Then maybe they’d go get something to eat, because he was starving. But he wasn’t in the mood for a meatball sub anymore. Maybe a steak – nice and rare. That sounded good. He didn’t usually spring for steak, but he’d gotten a raise at work recently, so he could afford it. Throwing the sheet back, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and down to the cold stone floor. That’s when it hit him.

The memories flashed into his mind, overlapping each other and coming too fast to stop: waking up on the cold stone floor of Spike’s crypt, the line of fire that followed Spike’s fingernail scratch above his nipple, the sense of horror as he watched the blood dripping down – realizing the chip was no longer working, the pleasure that rushed through him when Spike sunk his teeth into his neck and he came, wrapped in Spike’s arms. Then the faint sound of Spike’s final words “See you soon, love.”

He pressed one hand to his heart, and held his breath, but he knew what he would find. Or wouldn’t find.

“Fuck.”

Xander was a vampire.

He flopped back to the bed, and breathed in deeply, the scent of his sire surrounding him, calming him. Okay. He was a vampire. He could deal with this. He had Spike. Spike would help him – wherever the hell he was. Xander would just have to find him, then.

He got up and found a pile of clothes neatly folded on a chair by the bed. They weren’t all his clothes, but they fit, so he put them on. As he finished tying his shoes, he heard a door opening in the chamber above him. He almost called out, but he could hear a strange rumbling, thumping noise that brought his hunger up to the fore – a heartbeat.

He licked his lips, learning the hard way that wasn’t a smart move when you were in game face. He sucked on the tiny bit of blood that came out of the wound on the tip of his tongue, and that distracted him from the sounds from above for a moment.

“What the hell are we doing at your crypt, Spike?” Xander looked up sharply at the sound of her voice.

“You were looking for Xander, weren’t you, Slayer? He’s right downstairs. After you.”

The sound of feet on the metal bars of the ladder made him start. He stepped back into the shadows, smiling. What a thoughtful sire. Spike had brought him breakfast.


End file.
